


Boyhood

by contemporarydreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Childhood, F/M, Frottage, Growing Up Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contemporarydreamer/pseuds/contemporarydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now when they talk about it, Harry claims he'd known all along that they were never just friends.  Zayn says he doesn't believe him, but he does. He does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyhood

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: anxiety, panic attacks!

It took Zayn and Harry a long time to come to terms with what was happening between them. It started when they were 11 and still thought they were just friends. They lived 5 minutes away from each other, so had no choice but to walk to school together (mothers were mothers). Harry would wait outside Zayn's house every morning, Zayn would come out, and they would walk together and Harry would tell bad jokes and Zayn would slap him playfully. Sometimes, Harry would do nothing and Zayn would still lightly hit him, and that's when he realized he wanted to slap and touch Harry all the time, so they stopped being awkward neighbors and started being friends.  
Harry would come over and they would laugh and talk about girls and lay on each other and eat all day and be boys, but sometimes they would do their own things in the presence of each other; Zayn would draw or read and Harry would listen to music and sometimes write and their proximity inspired them and Zayn's doodles and Harry's little stories were better than ever. 

It didn’t take long for each of them to become crucial aspects to the other’s life. One time, they were walking back from school, crossing the road when Harry stopped in front of a dead frog with a frown and proceeded to talk about how unfair life is sometimes, and "Zayn, do you believe in karma? Because this must have been a mean person". Only, they were still on the road. They were still on the road and Zayn's voice felt hoarse after all the times he'd said "Harry, _c'mon_ , a car's gonna come". A car actually did, come, then, and Zayn didn't think, just grabbed Harry's hand and yanked them onto the sidewalk. Harry's body thudded into Zayn's with a force that knocked the breath out of both of them, and they stood like that for a while, Harry's face pressed against Zayn's neck, their entwined hands awkwardly wedged in between their bodies. Finally, Harry stepped back and looked at Zayn as though he'd discovered a new star. 

"You saved me, Zayn!"

Zayn sighed, exasperated, and looked down at their hands. 

"Harry, you idiot! Why didn't you move? I was terrified." 

Harry's expression softened and he squeezed Zayn's hand. "Sorry," he muttered. 

Harry wouldn't let go of Zayn's hand for the rest of the walk back. Not that Zayn minded. 

They only got closer after that. Even if there wasn't some unspoken rule that says you have to treasure the person who saves you until the day you actually die, they were so good to each other, for each other. Later that week, at another one of their sleepovers, Harry and Zayn were on opposite sides of Harry's bed and Harry said, "what do you think would have happened if you hadn't been there on that road with me?" 

Zayn opened his eyes as to not envision it, and said, "don't talk about that, Haz. I was there" 

Harry sighed. 

Zayn sighed. 

After a minute or two, Zayn said "c'mere", and Harry was at his side immediately, wrapping himself around Zayn. Zayn cradled Harry into his side and kissed his head. 

They were friends. 

\-----

Now when they talk about it, Harry claims he'd known all along that they were never just friends. Zayn says he doesn't believe him, but he does. He does. 

\-----

Both Harry and Zayn got girlfriends when they were 13. Harry had wooed Ashley Bobbins at a party and Zayn had charmed Anna Sanders in math class. They still cuddled into each other at sleepovers, and they still held hands sometimes when one of them got scared, but they didn't tell their girlfriends that. Why should they have? They went on double dates and hung out as the four of them and it was nice. A little awkward, with the girls, but nice. 

Harry and Zayn were together, listening to music one night when Harry said,  
"So have you kissed her?" Zayn shook his head. 

"Me neither," Harry sighed. 

"What do you think it'll feel like?" Zayn asked. 

"I've no idea. It's supposed to feel good. I hope it feels good. It's kinda weird though. I mean, what's so nice about putting your lips on someone else's?" 

Zayn shrugged. He thought of himself kissing Anna. He thought of Harry kissing Ashley. _You have to do it someday_ , a voice in his voice said, and before he knew it, he was saying, 

"Why don't we both kiss them tomorrow? Let's go to the movies and then walk them home and kiss them and then come back to my house and tell each other what it was like, alright?" 

Harry sat up immediately and looked at Zayn like he'd just discovered a new element. 

"Mate, you're brilliant!" 

They were both nervous the next day. No amount of "how to kiss a girl" videos on youtube made them feel prepared enough, try as they might have to convince themselves. Zayn's stomach churned during the entire walk to Anna's house, and seeing her all dressed up in a floral skirt and matching headband only made him feel more tense. (That was normal, right, being nervous around your date?) Once there, Zayn and Harry sat by each other, their girlfriends on either side. 

About halfway through the movie, Harry leaned into Zayn and whispered, "what if we just do it here?" 

Zayn's eyes widened and he shook his head. It felt as though sirens were going off inside his body. He wasn't comfortable, he wasn't prepared ( _what do you do with your teeth?_ ) and he definitely didn't want to see Harry kissing his girlfriend, but Harry smirked and it was all fluid from there. 

Harry's hand made its way to Ashley's thigh and she looked over, blushing. He gave her a reassuring smile as he leaned in, and suddenly their faces were pressed together. Zayn couldn't see Harry's lips, but he could see Ashley squirming, enjoying whatever Harry was doing. He gripped the armrest between them and inhaled. Harry's other elbow nudged him, lightly. He heard Anna sigh, impatient. He exhaled shakily and snaked his arm around her shoulders. She turned to him, he leaned in, and they were kissing before he even closed his eyes. It was wet and weird and just lips against lips, he didn't know why he expected fireworks. He tried to get himself excited, thought about maybe taking her shirt off next time they did this, even tried the daring techniques some of the videos suggested and he felt her getting restless and shaky, but he all he felt was null. 

In all honesty, it was beginning to bore him, but then he felt Harry's arm settle down next to his on the armrest. Harry grabbed his hand and tangled their fingers together and Zayn felt it like electricity. A shock went from his hand all the way to his dick, and he was breathless. He kissed Anna with fervor, and felt her sigh into his mouth. She bit his lip and suddenly it was too much, he was thinking of Harry and if he was biting Ashley's lip or if she was biting his, and Harry was still holding his hand, and Zayn's heart was pounding, so he yanked his hand out of Harry's, disconnected his lips from Anna's, and smiled (unconvincingly) at her. A flicker of confusion washed through her face before she returned the smile and turned back to the movie.  
Time passed too slowly after that; the movie seemed to go on for hour, and Zayn wasn't even paying attention because Harry's hand was still on Ashley's thigh and he heard her giggle every few minutes and _how was this so easy for him?_

By the time the movie finally finished, Zayn was dizzy and questioning if he was even awake to begin with, because surely Harry wouldn't hold his hand while both of them were kissing their girlfriends, right? So as they all walked out, he remained silent, laughing quietly at Harry's usual jokes and offering warm glances at Anna, though she didn't seem to be nearly as uneasy as he was. 

They walked out as a group, and when Harry and Zayn offered to walk the girls home, they politely accepted. Zayn felt as though he would be stuck in the moment that Harry grabbed his hand for the rest of his life, because by the time he reached Anna's house, he didn't remember anything they'd talked about on the way there. At her door, he leaned in and kissed her once more, and then he was off. 

When he got to his own house, he lay down on his bed and didn't move, didn’t think, didn’t breathe. A few minutes later, he felt a thud next to him, and there was Harry, lying next to him, restless and jittery. 

"So..." Harry drawled, "how was it for you?" 

"A bit strange, to be honest," Zayn replied. "I expected fireworks, or something, but I just got wetness and a sloppy tongue. I think she liked it, though."

"Oh I know she liked it with me," Harry smirked, "I combined some techniques and got her squirming." 

Zayn's lips twitched upward and he sat up. 

"Yeah? What'd you do?" 

Harry sat up and faced Zayn. 

"I, like. It's hard to explain. I kind of," he wiggled his hand, "did that with my tongue." 

"Huh?" 

"I...just. Here," and Harry pulled Zayn in and kissed him, just like that. 

Zayn's respiratory system suddenly stopped working, because: what. Harry's hand was fisted in his shirt and he felt that like fire, but it was nothing compared to how sensitive his lips were to Harry's. They were slotted together before Harry wormed his tongue into Zayn's mouth, licking at the roof of it and behind his teeth, then sucked lightly on Zayn's tongue. Zayn worried that he would cry, it felt so good, and why didn't it feel like this with his girlfriend? He trembled as Harry's fingers made circles on his thigh, and he felt himself getting unbearably hard. 

Finally, Harry pulled away. He looked just as wrecked as Zayn felt. "That," he croaked. 

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, and then Harry said, "What did you do?" 

Zayn inhaled and began "well, first, I" but Harry cut him off and said lowly, "show me." 

So Zayn, with clunsy hands, reached for Harry's jaw and brought their lips together. This time, he licked into Harry's mouth, and relaxed slightly when Harry's breath hitched. Zayn was about to pull away and say, 'so yeah, that's what I did. It definitely wasn't as nice as it was with you, and I don't know why, but I probably shouldn’t have feelings for my best friend so, g'night mate', but then Harry scrambled into Zayn's lap and kissed him harder, cupping his face. Zayn could feel Harry's breathing, loud and erratic, and he could feel him shaking on top of him. When they parted, Harry rested his forehead against Zayn's and let out shaky breaths. 

"Why did you hold my hand while you kissed her? Why did you do that?" Zayn asked quietly into the space between their lips. 

"I wanted you to think of me," Harry breathed out. "Did it work?" 

Zayn shivered and nodded. "Did you think of me?" He asked, then.  
"Only you," Harry whimpered, and things should have felt awkward but they didn't, they couldn't, because it was Harry. His Harry, his best mate. So he said "good," and kissed him again. 

It went on like this for the next few months. They kissed any chance they could. They went on double dates with their girlfriends, and excused themselves to go to the bathroom, and Harry pushed Zayn into the wall and snogged him breathless. They kissed under the bleachers during lunch, and behind the tree near the road where Harry nearly died. 

They knew not to talk about it. Harry knew that Zayn would think of his religion, and his father, and Zayn knew that Harry knew, so they didn't give a name to what they did, they just did it. 

When they were 14, they got each other off for the first time. They were in Harry's armchair in his room. Zayn was sitting in Harry's lap, kissing him, threading his fingers through his hair. Harry was holding onto Zayn's sides as though Zayn would float away if he didn't. Their chests were heaving together, and each boy could feel how hard the other was. Zayn pulled away and looked down at Harry, hard in his sweats. 

"Do you want--should I?" He began, but didn't finish. He was young, scared to touch Harry, so he shifted so his cock was rubbing against Harry's through their pants, and Harry's breath hitched. Zayn ground his hips down and Harry let out a painful moan. 

"Do that again," he breathed. "Please." 

So Zayn did, and Harry moaned and grinded himself against Zayn too, and soon they were rutting against each other, panting into each other's mouths. Zayn tugged on Harry's hair and pushed down harder onto him and Harry cried out and dug his fingers into Zayn's ribs and it was too much. Zayn felt like he was falling down every time he was with Harry. He wanted every part of him, he wanted to taste and feel and hear. He wanted to the lick skin on Harry's jaw, and to feel him hard and ready, and to hear him moaning because of him. Harry was everything, was in his mind always. He leaned back and watched Harry, pressed back into the chair, throat exposed, sweat along his hairline, thrusting up into Zayn. Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Zayn, and Zayn took Harry's hand in his and brought it to his own chest, placing it over his heart, so Harry could feel what he was doing to him. Harry's mouth fell open and he bucked up and he said "Zayn, I'm-" and then exhaled and wetness spread through his pants. Zayn followed soon after, burying his face in Harry's neck. 

They sat like that for a while, letting their breathing even out, and Zayn couldn't help but notice the way Harry's fingers were tracing what felt like hearts into Zayn's back. 

They were braver with each other after that. When they were 15, Harry pulled Zayn into his room after school one day, took both of their shirts off, and pushed Zayn onto his bed. He crawled on top of him and whispered, "don't move, I wanna try something" in Zayn's ear. Doing this with Harry was different than doing it with Anna. He barely ever did anything with Anna, because it wasn't exciting or hot or passionate, it was just quick hand jobs or fingering her until they came and gave each other grateful kisses. Harry took time to make Zayn feel good, special. He learned the planes and curves of his body, kissed the freckles and bumps and ridges.  
"You'll like it, I promise," Harry reassured, and kissed Zayn. He moved his lips to Zayn's jaw and pressed kisses there and behind his ear, down his neck, sucking on his collarbone. He pressed his hips down into Zayn's and Zayn groaned and pushed his head back into the pillow. With Harry, every touch felt like static, almost too intense. Harry was at Zayn's shoulder, sucking and biting and kissing, and Zayn was writhing underneath him. Harry kissed down his neck, licked and tasted, took Zayn's nipple in his mouth and Zayn gasped, and Harry moved down, down, licked down Zayn's happy trail and mouthed over Zayn's cock. Zayn gasped and whimpered because they'd never done this before, never below the belt, and Harry unzipped his jeans and kissed him through his briefs. Zayn was panting when Harry finally took them off, and there Zayn was, painfully hard and throbbing in front of him. He swallowed, leaned in, kissed the tip, and looked up at Zayn. He was trembling and trying to whisper things like "Harry" and "please" and he was clutching the sheets in his fists and his chest was heaving up and down and he looked down at Harry, and Harry gave in, and took Zayn into his mouth. He pushed down and down until he felt Zayn's cock touch the back of his throat and began to suck with everything in him. Above him, Zayn moaned and moaned, because Harry mouth was stretched out and his throat was fluttering and his eyes were brimming with tears but he kept going, and Zayn felt like he had been set ablaze. He felt a surge of affection for Harry and he threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead and out of his eyes so he could look at him. His entire body was shaking as Harry moved up and licked at the head of Zayn's cock and all he could do was pull on Harry's hair and whimper his name. If anything, Harry smiled, around Zayn's cock, because he knew, the little bastard. He moved his hand around and cupped Zayn's ass and then spread Zayn's cheeks a little. Zayn tensed a bit, but couldn't find the strength to say anything, so he just sighed. Harry's finger moved in, in, and circled around Zayn's hole, and then pressed down on it just slightly, and Zayn squeezed his eyes shut and saw raging fires as he came down Harry's throat. 

When Harry crawled up next to him, Zayn kissed him fiercely and jerked him off until Harry came with Zayn's name on his lips. 

"You're so beautiful, you know? So good," Zayn whispered down at Harry, who was curled into him, holding his hand. 

"Mmm," Harry replied sleepily. 

\--

They went on like that, sneaking around, acting like forbidden lovers. Zayn hadn't been on a date with Anna in months, in face of spending time with Harry, and Harry had broken up with Ashley after the first time Zayn had made him come. When they were apart, Zayn drew Harry and Harry wrote about Zayn, and when they were together, they clung on to each other with desperation. Zayn fucked Harry when they were 17, after Harry had begged, pleaded, promised Zayn that it wouldn't hurt him. That’s how they did it for a while, then Zayn asked Harry to show him, to open him up and fuck him, and Harry pulled back, furrowed his eyebrows, and he said, "you sure?" And when Zayn nodded, furiously, he breathed out "okay" and leaned down to kiss him. Harry pushed Zayn back down on the bed and kissed down his body, like when they were 15, but didn't stop at his cock. He kissed further down, sucked on his hipbone, spread his thigh apart, kissed the inside of one, the pushed them up to bend against Zayn's stomach, his feet resting on Harry's shoulders. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Tell me," Harry said, and Zayn nodded and stroked his hair. 

Harry brought his lips down to the back of the Zayn's thigh and moved them down, down until they lingered over his hole. He pressed down, kissed him, sucked him. He kissed around Zayn, over Zayn, until Zayn was shaking and pleading. 

"Good?"  
"Yeah, so good, yeah fuck" 

Harry licked over him, swirled his tongue around, dipped in just slightly, then brought his fingers up and pressed down on Zayn's rim, felt him tense. 

"Relax." 

"I am relaxing," Zayn huffed out. 

Harry tried again, pushing down with the tip of his finger, and Zayn tensed again. 

"No, babe, relax," he tried again.

When Zayn still wouldn't, Harry took his cock in his mouth, all in one go, and Zayn went slack against his finger, and Harry pushed half of his finger in. Zayn gasped above him. 

Harry waited. 

"How does it feel?" 

"Weird, how do you like this?" 

Harry chucked, "just wait." 

He leaned down and licked around his finger, pushing his finger in further and curved it just so, until it pressed into a spot in Zayn that had him crying out Harry's name and writhing and panting, begging. 

Harry added one, two more fingers, and Zayn actually did start crying then. 

"Shit, babe does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" 

"Don't you fucking dare, Harry. It’s-just, go, fuck me, I'm ready, I'm ready."

So Harry kissed him once more and then pulled his fingers out, slicked himself up, and pushed himself into Zayn. Zayn looked up at him and couldn't help but to pull him down into a kiss, panting into it. Harry began to thrust, slowly, steadily, excruciatingly, and that's when he heard. 

Below him, Zayn's eyes were scrunched, his face contorted in a pained expression. He looked exhausted, defeated, torn, and he was muttering 

"Love, love you, God I fucking love you Harry, I fucking…" 

And Harry nearly collapsed into tears on top of him because he'd been waiting for years, years. 

He'd loved Zayn from the moment he called him an idiot on the road back when they were 12. He'd been breathing it into Zayn's mouth, in his hair, his neck, on his lower back, in his palm. He'd been telling Zayn every day, with smiles and lingering touches and gazes, with kisses to the temple and caresses. 

So Harry thrust in and said, "Love you too, Z," and they both came like that. 

Zayn didn’t mean to ignore Harry after that, it just happened that way. He took Anna out, spent the day with her, putting his phone on silent so he could guiltlessly ignore Harry’s texts. He took her home and fucked her against her bedroom wall and almost felt something. When he returned to his house, Harry was already in his room, pacing. 

"Zayn.”

“Harry.”

Harry looked at Zayn with pleading eyes, as if being apart from him for 12 hours had nearly killed him, and stepped closer, but Zayn stepped back. 

“Z, what’s going on?"

"What do you mean, Haz?"

"Why haven't you, why," he took a deep breath, "why are you still with her?" 

"I love her, Harry" 

Harry drew back. 

"No, Zayn, you love me," he said, insisted, with imploring eyes. 

Zayn raised his eyebrows. 

"Harry. We're mates. We get each other off when girls won't do it for us, but we’re just mates" he said, hoping to convince himself, too. 

"Sometimes we get a bit carried away, yeah? But I'm not gay, Haz." 

Harry didn’t breathe for long that Zayn almost rushed forward and forced him to. He stared at Zayn, as if waiting for him to tell the punch line of the joke, to say 'just kidding! It's always been you, H!’ but he didn't. 

Harry narrowed his eyes, then stepped away from Zayn, as though he were infected. He waited a beat longer, then spit out, "fuck you, Zayn." 

Zayn reached out but Harry jerked away. 

"I hate you. I fucking hate you." 

Zayn didn't himself to sleep that night, or night after. In fact, he didn't show any emotion for 2 weeks, until Anna joked around that he was becoming a robot. Every time Anna asked what was wrong, he shook his head and said "problems at home" and she nodded and cradled his head. 

He didn't like her. He didn't want her. He broke up with her without so much as an explanation and went to Harry's house, polite knocks turning into a violent pounding when he wouldn't answer. 

It wasn't until days later that Zayn found out from Harry's mother that he'd already left for college, and then, he really did cry himself to sleep. 

\----

It wasn't until 5 years later that Zayn finally found Harry. He was fresh out of college and looking for jobs, rushing to interviews. He had a coffee in one hand and a half eaten bagel in the other, and he was practically sprinting down Oxford Street when he crashed into a hard body. It was a daily occurrence, so he just said muttered a quick "excuse me" and stepped to the side, but then he heard "sorry, mate" and it sounded painfully familiar, so he looked up and there was Harry, already passing him.  
No, not again.  
"Harry?" He choked out, and Harry stilled, then turned around. 

When he saw him, Harry's eyes lit up and he smiled. "Zayn! Long time no see! How are you, bud?" 

Zayn smiled and willed himself not to cry, because Harry, his Harry, was here, in front of him. 

"Uh, pretty good, I guess. What about you?" 

"Listen, I've actually got to run, I'm late to a meeting, but let's catch up, yeah? Dinner tonight? My place?" 

Zayn nodded and Harry gave him his address before rushing off. 

Later that night, Zayn dressed in his best clothes, wearing colors he knew Harry liked. He styled his hair in the way that Harry used to love and spritzed himself with Harry's favorite cologne. He almost didn't go, because he thought he'd hallucinated the whole ordeal, but no, he had to go, he couldn't let this happen again. 

His heart was pounding as he approached Harry's door. He knocked once, twice, and something clanged inside before Harry opened the door, looking flustered (yet still devastatingly attractive). 

"Hey! Sorry, I'm a bit preoccupied. I'm making pasta and I'm trying to perfect the sauce and, yeah. Sorry. Come in," he opened the door wider and showed Zayn around. 

"So, uh, it's not very big. It's kind of just one room. My bed’s over there, and the kitchen's there. I eat there. The table is really small, I don't usually have guests. Writing is a lonely job," he sighed, "so yeah, make yourself at home and dinner'll be ready in a few minutes." 

After adding probably every type of seasoning in his cabinet to the sauce, Harry seemed content with his meal sat down on the other side of the compact table. 

"So. How's. What are. Uh," he chuckled, "I mean, how are you? What are you doing these days?" 

Zayn was shaking a little just from being this close to Harry after so long, so he had to take a deep breath before he said, "uh, I mean, I've been better. I'm a little bored with my life. I thought life after high school would be more exciting. I'm trying to find painting jobs, and it's hard, really, but I think I've found something. You?" 

"I've been alright. I'm writing," he smiled, "it's lonely, and it's difficult, and I've got writers block about a hundred percent of the time, but I love it. I just need to hurry up and write the next Harry Potter already." 

Zayn laughed and looked at his hand, unbearably close to Harry's. 

"Anyway, I write short stories for the paper some-" he stopped immediately when Zayn extended his finger and brushed Harry's. 

Harry looked down at their hands, and then at Zayn. His face showed no emotion, his eyes cold. Zayn pulled his finger back and swallowed. His heartbeat accelerated. 

"Harry I..." 

Harry didn't even cut him off; Zayn just stopped talking. He thought Harry would smile, tell him that he still loved him, tell him things would be good now that neither of them was denying it, but Harry's face had taken the same expression that he'd made just before telling Zayn he hated him.  
"You've no fucking right, Zayn," and Zayn's chest constricted. "It's not fair and I put up with it for 6 years, but no more. You can't hide behind a girlfriend and use me like that. You will not take advantage of my feelings, we won't fall back into the same routine as last time," Zayn's hands started shaking. "I won't be your fucking ' _mate_ ' that gets you off when a girl won't, Zayn," Zayn's eyes filled with tears and he tried to speak, to explain the truth to Harry, but nothing came out so Harry stood up violently and continued.  


"Do you have any idea? Any fucking idea what you did to me?" Zayn tried to sit up and reach for Harry, but his knees gave out and he fell back into the chair with a dry sob. Waves of panic coursed through his entire body, and he tried to breathe. Harry can't hate him.  


Harry seemed to notice.  


"Zayn? Come on, don't pull that shit on me. Stop pretending I was more than a fuck toy for you and fucking go, you've done enough already", but Zayn's body convulsed and he dropped his head between his knees..  


This time, Harry realized what was happening.  


"Zayn?" He rushed over to him when Zayn didn't respond.  


"Zayn, what’s wrong? Hey, hey, Zayn, look at me," he heaved Zayn's chest back up and sat down in his lap. "It's okay, Zayn. It's-please look at me, it's okay. Zayn, Zayn, Zayn," he tried again and Zayn finally found his breath again.  


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I've loved you since I was 12 and I shouldn't have denied it and I need you to not hate me, Harry. I need you to love me like you did because I can't, I can't."  


His voice was hoarse and he was still shaking and he was making a fool out of himself but then Harry said,  
"I don't hate you, Zayn. I never could. I just. Why didn't you tell me you were like this, Z?"  


Zayn shook his head, "I didn't. I wasn't."  


Harry slacked against him and touched their foreheads together.  


“Since when?” But Zayn didn’t have to answer because Harry knew.  


"So. You loved me? You love me?"  


Zayn nodded, still breathless, and every move was painful. "Please don't hate me Harry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really. I’m sorry."  


"Zayn, I still-I'm," he took Zayn's hand and pressed a featherlight kiss to his palm, then rucked his shirt up and pressed Zayn's hand to his heart.  


"You," Harry whispered.  


Zayn would do the same, but he couldn't move, so Harry did it himself, pressing his other hand to Zayn's heart, until their pulses evened out.  


"You and me, yeah? For real this time," he said.  


"You and me," Zayn agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your thoughts on my tumblr! 
> 
> thekooksz.tumblr.com


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